


Shy

by neednot



Series: Diction [2]
Category: The Fall (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/F, the morning after the 'croydon' comment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-09
Updated: 2016-04-09
Packaged: 2018-06-01 01:58:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6496354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neednot/pseuds/neednot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reed’s voice catches in her throat. “You’re not supposed to…”<br/>Not supposed to be here. In my home.<br/>Not supposed to make me want you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shy

The girls are asleep, her husband is away, gone off to his office job. The kettle’s still warm, and her head--God, her head--is pounding.

She knows it’s not from the drinks.

_I was brought up in Croydon._

God, why did she say that? Really it’s not like her husband would have minded, not like he would have seen himself as some cuckolded bastard, (not like she doesn’t know he’s slept with the women in his office once or twice.)

But she was raised better than that. She was raised on monogamy, on man plus woman (but only after marriage) equals children. Not woman plus woman equals passionate, desperately-needed night in hotel.

(And it is desperately needed, she knows. For both of them.)

She thinks about showering—she’d been so tired the previous night she’d just collapsed into bed, dreamlessly slept. A proper shower would do her good, then she could wash off thoughts of Stella and sex and Croydon, fucking Croydon.

But her bell rings before she can do that, and she hastily ties her robe around her waist and goes to answer.

And there she is, face blurred through the window though Reed would know that sharp profile anywhere. 

Stella. Blonde hair hanging loose, same clothes she was in the night before.

She opens the door before she can stop herself. Stop herself from wanting, stop herself from thinking she shouldn’t.

And then Stella looks up. “May I come in?” she asks, and her voice is soft, softer than Reed is used to hearing. She’s giving her a choice.

If she comes in, if—

Reed’s voice catches in her throat. “You’re not supposed to...”

_Not supposed to be here. In my home._

_Not supposed to make me want you._

Because she _does_ want her, and that’s the worst part of it.

Stella nods. “I understand,” she says.

_I’m sorry._

Reed’s own voice in her head, her words from last night. She should ask her to leave, she should.

But then a voice from behind her knee, and Reed swears—softly, so her daughter doesn’t hear.

“Mum? Who’s at the door?”

Stella’s eyes flick down, then back up to look at Reed. There are a thousand unasked questions on her face, a thousand assumptions.

“Just a friend, Olivia,” she says.

Stella says nothing. She doesn’t move, and Reed wishes she would, wishes she’d be the one to make the decision.

But Reed steps back from the door enough to allow Stella entrance and she picks up her daughter, who’s eyeing Stella with dark eyes.

Stella doesn’t miss a beat. She gives Olivia a cheery smile and she waves, and Olivia takes her thumb out of her mouth long enough to wave back.

“We’re going to have a talk, love, so go on back to bed,” Reed says quietly, setting her daughter down. Olivia takes one last look at Stella before she heads back to her room, and Reed crosses to put the kettle on.

Stella keeps her coat on, hands in pockets, and this is the first time Reed’s seen her look uncomfortable. She watches out of the corner of her eye as Stella picks up a family photo from the coffee table, Reed and Tom and the girls on holiday in Spain last year.

“Your family is beautiful,” Stella says, and Reed can hear in her voice the meaning—

_I understand. I understand. I’m sorry._

But she doesn’t want her to understand. Doesn’t want Stella among her home, with her family, like she’s some neighbor down the street.

Christ, this feels like an affair.

“You know,” Reed says, and it takes her millennia to get the rest out. “I… I didn’t mean _no_ forever.”

She knows Stella’s raising an eyebrow even though her back is to her. “Oh?”

She doesn’t ask _but what about Croydon_ like a man would have. Doesn’t taunt her. Stella is straightforward and patient and uncomplicated and Reed has always admired that about her. Doesn’t ask _but what about your family_.

Doesn’t take her coat off.

Doesn’t stay for tea.

But she kisses Reed as she leaves and promises another time, and Reed lets herself believe it.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Wanted to write a quick fic the morning after the 'Croydon' comment. Kudos and comments (and prompts) are always suggested, I really enjoy writing Reed's POV.
> 
> Also I have a Tumblr, so if you want to follow, it's appreciated! need-not.tumblr.com


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